


he's a devil

by kyouyaed



Series: lay that pistol down, babe [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Fallout 4 AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyouyaed/pseuds/kyouyaed
Summary: “Your life,” said Bogue, “belongs to me. Everything you are is mine. In life,” a drop of sweat rolled down Bogue's Adam's apple and slid into his shirt, “and in death.”Bogue demands, he deserves, and he takes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is unedited. i'll edit when i can!

Bartholomew Bogue stood at the edge of his private balcony in his great mansion, a sprawling mansion his men had painstakingly built, and surveyed his lands, the lands his men designed and tended to, taking in the beauty of what he owned. It was beautiful, he mused, lifting a cigarette to his lips. The distant sound of Raiders, Gunners, and the few settlers smart enough to join him carried on the gentle breeze and rolled around Bogue smoothly. A small smile tugged at the corner of Bogue's lips and he exhaled, the cigarette smoke sweeping away.

“Mr. Denali,” Bogue spoke aloud, not looking away from the vastness of his small empire, “I've got all of this, land, men in my employ, more caps than most know what to do with. And yet, I feel unsatisfied. Why do you suppose that is?”

Behind him, Denali shifted and moved forward until he came to a stop next to Bogue. He squinted through the cigarette smoke being blown into his face by the breeze. “I wouldn't know, sir,” he stated quietly, watching as a man in green shoved a brown-clad man. Bogue glanced at Denali and followed his gaze as a fight broke out between the two men, other similarly clad people rushing to take sides.

“Gunners,” snarled Bogue instead of answering Denali. He snuffed out his cigarette and flicked the butt off the balcony. Below, a massive fight began to erupt and gunshots echoed so loud it was a wonder any wasteland creature didn't come staggering in. Bogue sneered and turned, walking briskly into his rooms. Denali followed without a word, keeping close to his employer. Bogue picked up a shotgun leaning against the wall next to his room door and he cocked it before opening the door and stepping out.

His footsteps were loud against the hard wood floor and a scowl set into the lines of his face as he marched from his room. The sounds of fighting got louder the closer he got to the front door of his mansion. Bogue stopped at his garish double front doors and took a deep, trembling breath before he flung both doors open and marched with cold, even steps down the porch. No one seemed to notice his presence as he moved closer toward the chaos. The scowl had darkened and those Raiders and Gunners that saw him halted at the fearsome sight he made.

“Mr. Denali,” commanded Bogue, stopping just at the edge of the fray.

Bogue didn't flinch as Denali let out a piercing wail. All around them, people froze in response to the wail. That cry only meant one thing and slowly, all of the participants of the fight turned to face Bogue and Denali. For a long few minutes, it was silent. Tension rolled through the air as Gunners and Raiders trembled before Bartholomew Bogue who was the picture of rage. His shotgun was held in both hands, restful, and he coldly surveyed the men and women making a mess of his home, his beautiful property, his life's work.

“Ladies,” he spoke, voice curt and clear, “gentlemen.” He took a small step into the crowd and they parted for him immediately. “I have worked tireless years of my life for the things that I own. I have worked for my caps, and my crops, and my contacts. I have _worked_ ,” his voice began to rise as he spoke, “and I have _bled_ deep into my palms for this life! I have shed more sweat, blood, and tears than any of you _Gunners_ and _Raiders_ could ever _hope_ to!” By now, he was yelling, his voice booming and echoing across his property. “All I own is thanks to me! And you, all of you! What do you do? What have any of you ever accomplished on your own? Before me, you were all ungodly horrors! You were clusters of _nothing_! None of you had any _worth_ before _me_!” He took a deep breath and came to halt in the center of his front yard where the two who had started the fight stood bruised and bloody and ashamed. “And this,” Bogue said in a quieter voice, “is how you repay me. By fighting amongst each other. I _own_ you! Without me, all of you would undoubtedly be _dead_. You owe me everything you have now. Your homes, your food, your lives.”

Bogue inhaled sharply through his nose and momentarily let his gun fall to his side to bring a new cigarette up to his lips. He lit it and took a deep drag on it, stepping a few feet forward and breathed out the smoke into the faces of the fight starters. Bogue clicked his tongue and held out his cigarette and a Raider stepped forward to take it. Bogue readjusted his grip on his shotgun and pointed it first at the Gunner.

“Your life,” said Bogue, “belongs to me. Everything you are is mine. In life,” a drop of sweat rolled down Bogue's Adam's apple and slid into his shirt, “and in death.” With that, he pulled the trigger and turned the shotgun onto the Raider as the Gunner's body crumpled. Bogue stared down the barrel of his gun and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the Raider trembled. Without a word, Bogue pulled the trigger again and let his gun fall to his side once more. When he next spoke, calm and loud, his voice carried around the yard. “Remember this: I owe none of you anything. You belong to me. You live on _my_ land, you eat _my_ food, you use _my_ caps.” He turned to the Raider who had taken his cigarette and took it back. “Leave the bodies. When you've learned your lesson, take their things and leave the corpses for the Yao Guai.”

Bogue turned away and nodded to Denali before heading back inside, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet seeming obscenely loud. His steps were echoed by Denali as the pair made their way back inside with a chill in their steps and power radiating off of them both. Bogue breathed out a sigh when they were safe inside the house and Denali shut the doors with a crisp snap.

“I am,” spoke Bogue, “ _unsatisfied_. These men, these women, they're animals. We civilized people, Mr. Denali, are far above them. And yet we treat them like our _equals_. I want... More. More from this life. I have worked long and hard for what we have here. We deserve _more_.”

Denali cleared his throat. “What more can we have?”

As if brought in by his words, the doors slammed open. Both men turned to appraise the newcomer who stood panting, silhouetted by the noon sun. The man wiped sweat from his brow with his arm and he looked up.

“Ah, Mr. McCann,” greeted Bogue, flicking the ashes of his cigarette to the floor. “What news do you have?”

McCann grinned a feral grin. “A small settlement has... _Need_ for your guidance, Mr. Bogue. Scattered, helpless. Who better to assist than you?”

With an exhale, Bogue turned a sickening, self-satisfied, smug smile on Denali. “We deserve far more, Mr. Denali, than we are being given. Don't you agree?” Denali nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a half smile. “We have worked far too long. It's time we reached out and _took_ what we deserve.”

Bogue waved his hand toward McCann dismissively and headed up the stairs, Denali close behind. The pair moved up to Bogue's room and Bogue settled his shotgun back next to the door. He moved across the room and stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the air. He ran a hand over the balcony railing and peered down into his yard. True to his orders, the corpses he'd left and the ones that had fallen during the fight remained strewn about. A few Raiders and Gunners lingered, mourning. They never learned, Bogue knew, but it never hurt to try and instill these lessons in them. Eventually old dogs would learn new tricks, or they would die. Bartholomew Bogue was a powerful man, with more caps than he could spend, and he could afford to teach lessons, and he could afford to take. And Bartholomew Bogue would take.

**Author's Note:**

> villains with nothing redeemable about them are my favorite types of villains and damn if Bogue isn't one of those. his role in this au is a little bit deeper than in the movie, so i wanted to explore his power in the Commonwealth a bit. there will be more of these for sure! (about him, about everyone!) this is my first time writing him, so i hope i did alright! i'm super interested in the type of relationship Bogue and Denali have, so i'll probably explore that in this series as well.
> 
> as always, feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](http://conspiracieys.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment if you want to talk about the mag7, this au, or both! i can definitely use help planning and figuring a lot of stuff out and i'm always open to and love feedback!


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